1 views
Just Life things
#WritcoStoryPrompt115
Do you want to live because you are afraid to die? If you think something should be written about the question, go ahead and do so.
I read this prompt and my head was filled with so many questions and answers simultaneously. All jumbled into a loud noise, till I actually sat up and started writing this down.
Having started to do things that I loved doing at the age of 42-43 itself is deemed a late started by today's standards.Today a twenty two year old is not just able to grasp that by this age I was already a mother to a year old child. So ya.. I bloomed late as one might put it. Spending twenty five years of my life taking care of family and hardly having time left for even my past time activities or things that I enjoyed doing for relaxation never happened. I loved writing and ever since I picked up the pen and started writing at the age of around nine or ten, (when you are actually able to write grammatically proper sentences and even put your own thoughts in words) I hadn't wished to put it down. Then when you have a babies in one hand and the duties of a daughter in law in the other hand, the pen and the book found their way to the deep end of cupboard filled with "to use latter"stuff which actually hardly get to see the light of the day.
And like that I and my pen were lost. But once the children started being independent, I realised that I had too much baggage on my shoulders, and I was cracking up badly. I needed an outlet and I wanted to do something to keep myself sane. The pen haunted me and finally one fine day, I opened the deep end of the cupboard and my memories. Cobwebs hung within them both, but braving my fears I managed to free the thoughts of my pen and gave it the fodder of ink it needed. My emotions flew on paper and I kept penning like a crazed woman, or more like a starved person finding all the best aromatic food of the different corners of the world and is trying to eat it all in one sitting. Ya..hungry much .. to re explore, to re write and re discover my own self. Now that I have carved a name for myself , I can afford to dream of a goal. But somewhere deep down I know that the time is less and things to do are more. I am not afraid to die, but I am afraid to dream big and die before I achieve it. So I guess I am not dreaming big. I am just focusing on the now,dreaming just a few days ahead and manifesting or willing them to happen along with my hard work. Rest it is upto Fate and her tantrums. You never now when she is going to cut short my journey. But..Ahem... I am a paranormal/ horror writer so I believe in life after death.!! So not afraid of death. I know will live after that too..😂 Ya fate I will have the last laugh because I will be back to haunt you..
Do you want to live because you are afraid to die? If you think something should be written about the question, go ahead and do so.
I read this prompt and my head was filled with so many questions and answers simultaneously. All jumbled into a loud noise, till I actually sat up and started writing this down.
Having started to do things that I loved doing at the age of 42-43 itself is deemed a late started by today's standards.Today a twenty two year old is not just able to grasp that by this age I was already a mother to a year old child. So ya.. I bloomed late as one might put it. Spending twenty five years of my life taking care of family and hardly having time left for even my past time activities or things that I enjoyed doing for relaxation never happened. I loved writing and ever since I picked up the pen and started writing at the age of around nine or ten, (when you are actually able to write grammatically proper sentences and even put your own thoughts in words) I hadn't wished to put it down. Then when you have a babies in one hand and the duties of a daughter in law in the other hand, the pen and the book found their way to the deep end of cupboard filled with "to use latter"stuff which actually hardly get to see the light of the day.
And like that I and my pen were lost. But once the children started being independent, I realised that I had too much baggage on my shoulders, and I was cracking up badly. I needed an outlet and I wanted to do something to keep myself sane. The pen haunted me and finally one fine day, I opened the deep end of the cupboard and my memories. Cobwebs hung within them both, but braving my fears I managed to free the thoughts of my pen and gave it the fodder of ink it needed. My emotions flew on paper and I kept penning like a crazed woman, or more like a starved person finding all the best aromatic food of the different corners of the world and is trying to eat it all in one sitting. Ya..hungry much .. to re explore, to re write and re discover my own self. Now that I have carved a name for myself , I can afford to dream of a goal. But somewhere deep down I know that the time is less and things to do are more. I am not afraid to die, but I am afraid to dream big and die before I achieve it. So I guess I am not dreaming big. I am just focusing on the now,dreaming just a few days ahead and manifesting or willing them to happen along with my hard work. Rest it is upto Fate and her tantrums. You never now when she is going to cut short my journey. But..Ahem... I am a paranormal/ horror writer so I believe in life after death.!! So not afraid of death. I know will live after that too..😂 Ya fate I will have the last laugh because I will be back to haunt you..
